


and I know this is the end

by Nara



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: AU where Crowley runs away, AU where the apocalypse happens, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Character Death, Ficlet, M/M, Wordcount: 100-1.000
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-30
Updated: 2020-05-30
Packaged: 2021-03-03 01:48:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 814
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24456961
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nara/pseuds/Nara
Summary: Crowley's world ends. And then it ends again.A short ficlet with Angst out the wazoo.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 4
Kudos: 19





	and I know this is the end

**Author's Note:**

> I found this in my "Good Omens" fanfiction folder when sorting through my WIPs. I don't remember writing it. I read it over quickly and started tearing up. Maybe I'm just over-sensitive, even to my own work, but maybe it'll make you cry too.

It was at the bandstand that Crowley’s world began coming to an end.

Certainly, the whole world was about to end if they didn’t do anything about it, but Crowley’s world was crumbling, right here, right now.

_“Enough.” Crowley turns to walk away, “I’m leaving.”_

_Aziraphale calls after him, “You can’t leave, Crowley, there isn’t anywhere to go!”_

_Shrugging, Crowley looks up at the starry sky, “Big universe. Even if this all ends up in a puddle of burning goo, we could go off together.”_

_“Together?” Aziraphale pauses, considering, but then shakes his head._

_Crowley steps forward, pushing, “How long have we been friends; six thousand years!”_

_Aziraphale splutters, “We’re not friends, I don’t even like you!”_

_“You do!” Crowley insists._

_Aziraphale attempts to remain in the role he had defined for himself, that heaven had defined for him. “We’re on opposite sides!”_

_“We’re on OUR side!” Crowley steps forward again, grasping for something, anything, indicating that Aziraphale would make the choice to be with him, something for himself, and not what he’s been told to do as a good little angelic solider. But Aziraphale’s face goes through a series of emotions: contemplation, pain…is that love?...before settling on resignation._

_“It’s over.” Aziraphale meets Crowley’s gaze with determined eyes. Eyes full of regret, but eyes that have made their decision._

_“Right…” Crowley walks away, his heart broken, knowing this may very well be the last time he sees the angel._

Crowley had paused just out of Aziraphale’s sight. He tore his sunglasses off his face and threw them to the ground where the lenses shattered. He bit back a scream; it wouldn’t do for Aziraphale to hear him.

Rubbing furiously at his eyes, Crowley forced the tears away before they could fall.

~~~

...Crowley carefully unfolded the letter he found in the little wooden box. It was written in Aziraphale's loopy affected scrawl. Crowley had no idea how it survived this long on a supernatural battlefield. Perhaps it was...perhaps it was a miracle from Aziraphale, leading him to this spot, this little box where the bookshop used to be. Maybe it would let Crowley know where the angel was.

Maybe, after years of fighting, Aziraphale would run away with him this time.

Crowley began reading.

> _"My dearest Crowley,_
> 
> _I hope one day you can find this letter, though I hope even more that you never return to the shambles that is the planet we called our home for so many years. I want you to be somewhere that makes you happy._
> 
> _If, per chance, you do come across this letter, I want you to know that I'm sorry. I'm so very, very sorry._
> 
> _I'm certain that soon I will be executed as a traitor for trying to stop the Apocalypse. Neither Heaven nor Hell have any room for me and now that you are gone, I have nowhere to call my home..."_

The ink around these words was blurred slightly. Crowley could vividly picture the tears dripping from Aziraphale's eyes as he wrote. Crowley swallowed the lump that had formed in his throat. According to this letter, Aziraphale was gone. Dead. Murdered by his own people. Blinking back his own tears, Crowley forced himself to continue reading the letter.

> _"...Crowley, I wish I could apologize for all the things I've said, though the truth is I probably don't deserve your forgiveness. The truth is that I was afraid. That's not an excuse, simply an explanation, but I was afraid of what heaven might do to me, what hell might do to you if they found out we were on our own side. If they found out we liked each other, that we were friends._
> 
> _If they found out I love you._
> 
> _These are probably the last words I'll ever write so I'll say it again._
> 
> _Crowley: I'm sorry and I love you very, very much._
> 
> _Eternally yours,_
> 
> _Aziraphale"_

Crowley sank to his knees, clutching the paper tightly in his fingers. He howled, a cry of pain so deep and disturbed that the nearest skirmish stopped fighting for a moment as shivers slithered down their spines.

As the howl faded to a hiss, Crowley was filled with a righteous anger. He would kill them all. Every single angel and demon who was currently alive. He would kill everyone who took away his Aziraphale, who made his angel so afraid that they couldn't be together.

But the fury washed out of him just as suddenly as it had arrived. Crowley was tired. Deep in his bones, deep in his infernal soul, he was tired. He lay down amidst the rubble of the former bookshop. Silent tears rolled down his cheeks. Using the last of his energy, Crowley transformed into a snake, coiling himself on top of the letter, the last communication he had with his love.

With a final, defeated exhale, Crowley closed his eyes.


End file.
